Blood is thicker than water
by herringprincess
Summary: Nothing is more important to Rodolphus than family. And his family have always been loyal to the Dark Lord.
1. Reprimand

A/N The characterisation of Rodolphus Lestrange (and in part those of some other characters as well) is based on a now defunct marauder-era role-playing game, Primordium Caligis. Hopefully it will still make sense outside of that context! Thanks to all the brilliant people who played with me there while it lasted. I still RP, but not as Rodolphus anymore. (See pure reign and king cool on greatestjournal, and gigglylavender on livejournal.) Oh, and I'm assuming Roddy and Bella and a bunch of others managed to break out of Azkaban again after OotP, obviously. Please review!

Chapter 1: Reprimand

They stood in a circle around their Lord, hoods up and heads down. Rodolphus snuck a look at Bellatrix, across the circle from him. He knew that the Dark Lord would know he did so, and he knew that she would not return the look, but he did it all the same. He could not see her face properly in the shadows, but he saw the shape of her shoulders, rigid, and he longed to massage the tension from them, as he had many times before. Perhaps later. Now, Lord Voldemort was about to speak.

The circle was silent even before, but when the Dark Lord drew breath, a deeper hush seemed to fall. No breathing, no movement, no sounds, were to be allowed to interrupt his address. All eyes on the floor, but all minds were on him. After a moment, he began.

'Disappointing,' he hissed. 'Very much so. It seems you are easily outwitted these days. Perhaps it was all that time in Azkaban has made you _soft_.' His tone softened then, as if to reiterate the point. He turned to look at one of them in particular. 'Bellatrix.'

She bent on her knee before him, trembling, and raised her head slightly, her hood falling back. 'My Lord,' she said deferentially. 'I do not know how they predicted we would be there tonight.'

Rodolphus looked down at his wife. It never ceased to amaze him to watch her in the Dark Lord's presence. Usually so headstrong, she bowed to no man but her master. No other man – not even, or perhaps especially not her husband – could instil obedience in her. Still she trembled before him, after all these years.

Rodolphus remembered – o gloroius days! – their wedding day. She had laughed at the wedding vows. In the ceremony he saw her cross her fingers as she said 'to obey' – and she had winked at him as she did so. The meaning was clear – she obeyed no-one but the Dark Lord and herself – and he loved her all the more for it.

Rodolphus remembered, too, their capture after the Dark Lord's downfall, and their trial. He saw her now in his mind's eye, energy crackling from her like electrcity as she vehemently declared her continued support for her master. Her eyes had flashed lightning and he and the others had been swept up by the full force of her personality. After that, not one of them in the room even considered making excuses to avoid prison, as some had done. He had never wanted her so badly as he did then. Ironic, when it was that same confession that would keep them apart for so many years.

But she had been right. Her Lord has rescued her, and the rest of them as well, and now glory was near at hand. A spirit of optimism held the Death-eaters. This time, they would not be beaten. Dumbledore had been destryoed, the death-toll was high, the ministry was hopeless, and the Potter boy – Lord Voldemort knew how to destroy him. Why else would Dumbledore have been so protective of the boy if not because he was weak?

They could afford a few setbacks, such as happened today. But Lord Voldemort did not like setbacks.

'Severus Snape was of the opinion that I should not have let you head this mission,' he continued. 'He said you had failed too many times before. What say you to this, my Bella?'

Her brow darkened. 'Unlike some, I follow your instructions to the letter, my Lord. I do not consider this a failure.'

Voldemort smiled, and there was humour in his look, and yet it lacked something. It was a private smile, with no trace of fellowship. 'There is long enmity between you two,' he stated blandly. 'You say he is disloyal, he says you are incompetent. Just so. You both seek to draw attention to your strengths, by pointing to another's weakness. But it does not multiply your strength to do so. It merely creates new weakness.'

She bowed her head again. 'I am sorry, my Lord.'

'Ah, but you are right, my Bella.' He motioned for her to stand up, which she did, stepping closer into the circle as she did so. 'Severus did not have your faith, or your vision,' he continued. 'He thought that I was dead. Dead! He was all ready to follow another master, if it should arise thus.' Voldemort shot a steel look across the circle to where another robed death eater – presumably Snape – stood. 'But I have forgiven him. You, on the other hand-' he turned to look back at the woman before him, and his voice softened again. 'You did not doubt me for a moment. You would die rather than follow another. Is that not so?' She nodded, and he continued. 'You are my most loyal follower.' She flushed with pride at his words. 'And I am grateful, Bella. Do not doubt it. I have given you great opportunities.'

'I – I am honoured, sir,' she choked, overcome. 'I live only to serve you.'

'Indeed,' he replied. 'But I have not finished.'

He held up a boney finger and the silence dropped still deeper. Rodolphus felt his heart rise up into his throat. So it was to be _crucio_, then. He hated to see his lady _crucio_ed. It did not seem right, somehow. She had showed him the beauty of that spell, for once he had thought it merely a tool. There could be poetry in pain, if it were done well. He knew that now. A heart such as Rodolphus' was easily swayed by poetry. But there was no poetry when she suffered. There was no light in the world when she was not happy. He had seen his lady undergo _crucio_ twice, and each time he had had to stand on and watch, wishing that it could be his pain and not hers. For he knew she would not suffer watching him in pain as he did watching her.

The secret to surviving Azkaban was to hold onto one thing, and one thing alone. The dementors spun a web of negativity, there was no chance of hope in such a climate, only of single-mindedness. Sirius Black had thought _I am innocent._ Bellatrix had thought _My Lord._ Rodolphus had thought _My Lady._

And here his lady was before him, trembling slightly. He sensed it rather than saw it. Familiarity lent itself to easy legilimency. Lord Voldemort must sense it too. He sensed everything.

'You follow my instructions to the letter, as you say. When I first returned, this was what I needed most. But not now.' Lord Voldemort waved his hand dismissively. 'The situation becomes more complex. Now, I need followers who can adapt to the situation as it arises. Followers with creativity.' He pointed at her. 'You, Bella, have failed to adapt to changing circumstances.' He was silent then and lowered his hand, but he continued to gaze at her. Bellatrix, in turn, gazed up at him, and her eyes widened. With a sickening feeling, Rodolphus realised they were still communicating, privately. What Bellatrix saw, he could not tell, but he saw her face becoming more horrified, and he winced.

When Lord Voldemort spoke aloud again, his voice was softer than ever before. 'I will have to make an example of you, Bella. You see that, don't you? I am sorry.'

In a flash, Rodolphus realised what was about to happen, but he was too shocked to move, to speak, to even think. He could only stand there, motionless, powerless, like Bellatrix herself, as the Dark Lord raised his wand lazily and said: 'Avada Kedavra.'


	2. React

A/N Whoo, I forgot about uploading this story. I've typed the first 4 chapters up. Chapter 3 will be up in a matter of days so be sure to check back if you like it :-) Oh, and review me!

**Chapter 2: React**

In a flash, Rodolphus realised what was about to happen, but he was too shocked to move, to speak, to even think. He could only stand there, motionless, powerless, like Bellatrix herself, as the Dark Lord raised his wand lazily and said: 'Avada Kedavra.'

Her face did not change from shock as she crumpled and fell sideways, her long hair falling partially over her face. It was over so quickly, and all Rodolphus could do was stare at her limp, lifeless figure on the floor. He could feel Voldemort's mind searching his own, but he did not bother to hide his emotions. It would be useless to try. The Dark Lord grunted, apparently satisfied.

'Dispose of the body as you see fit, Rodolphus. But do not keep it. It is not profitable to maintain attachments to the _dead_.' The significance was not lost on Rodolphus, who had served his Lord for a long time. She was dead, there was nothing he could do about that. If he seemed to 'maintain attachment' he would soon join her.

The Dark Lord's mouth curled up at the corners. 'Do not forget where your loyalties lie, Lestrange,' he said simply.

For the first time since she fell he became aware of the other Death Eaters around him. His brother, his father, his cousin Montague. He tried to reach out as Montague had taught him to the minds of the others in the circle. It was difficult, since he could not see their eyes, but he could feel the odd emotions, here and there. Some were shocked and upset, others – not. She had been popular amongst them, and yet her manner had earned her some enemies, too. Snape and Montague, as always, were unreadable.

'The way to overcome grief,' continued the Dark Lord. '- as grief is certainly a weakness that must be overcome- is to keep busy.' Rodolphus lifted his head to look at his master, who was still smiling slightly. 'So I have work for you to do. You have – ah – fifteen minutes to collect yourself, and then you are to follow Avery. I will explain to him the task whilst we are waiting.' He gestured around the circle. 'The rest of you can leave now. I will summon you again soon.' They left reluctantly, popping into space as they apparated away. One robed figure, shorter than the rest, stood still, staring at Bellatrix's dead body. Lord Voldemort cocked his head to look at him, watching him for a few moments before speaking. 'Draco, appraise your mother of her sister's fate.'

The boy nodded, still staring. 'Yes, master,' he whispered, and disappeared.

The Dark Lord took hold of Avery's robe, and they too disappeared, leaving Rodolphus alone with his dead wife's body. He stared at it. It didn't look like her, it didn't look like Bella. It looked like an anonymous body, a nameless victim in the war. He knelt down to touch it, and was vaguely surprised at how easily he managed to. He supposed it was because he had touched nameless victims before. He had expected that when he turned her over, he would be more upset, but when he looked in her face she seemed less like his Bella than ever: his Bella had always been so full of life, how could this lump of inert flesh be her? He put the head in his lap, and twirled the hair around his fingers - he had always loved her beautiful long hair. It was dark, and untameable, and sparkled when you looked at it. The hair brought it home to him more than anything else: this body was her, and this was the last time he would touch her hair. It was the last of the 'last time's. He had had no warning for the last time she would smile her cruel smile; or the last time she would say his name softly, the way he loved her to; or the last time they would work together; or the last time they would sleep together. Her last expression had been shock and horror, and that was the face that would haunt him now.

He wondered, briefly, what she would have done if it had been him the Dark Lord had killed, and knew instantly she would have followed still. He wondered what she would have wanted him to do – was she still loyal to the Dark Lord after he had killed her? – but that was a stupid question. It didn't matter, anyway. He remembered his loyalties, alright. He loved Bella more than anything, but love had nothing to do with it. His loyalty was to his family; always had been and always would be. And his family loyalties were with the Dark Lord.

He bent over her head, and closed his eyes so he could not see this corpse that was not Bella. He lifted a lock of her hair to his face, and cried without tears for the life they would never have together.

He did not cry long. He did not have much time until Lord Voldemort returned with a task for him. There was no use crying now, he had the rest of his life to mourn, and would assuredly use it so. He took parchment, quill and ink, and hurriedly composed a short note, which he folded and placed in a pocket in her robes. Then he stood up and stared into the distance until Voldemort returned.

Avery and The Dark Lord apparated in together. When Rodolphus spoke, his voice was steady and calm. 'I thought St. Mungo's, my Lord,' he addressed his master deferentially. 'It would be the quickest way for news of her death to spread if they had her body in hospital and could pronounce her dead at once. And then they would know you are not to be trifled with.'

'Excellent idea!' Lord Voldemort replied. 'They may even make a futile attempt to revive her. I am glad to see you have _creativity_, Rodolphus.'

It was praise, and yet, the emphasis on creativity, for the lack of which Bellatrix had died, was surely intended to be cruel. Rodolphus merely bent his head and said in a low voice 'Thank you, my Lord.'


	3. Relish

A/N Just in case you thought that my Rodolphus was a bit too fluffy to be a Deatheater... ;-)

**Chapter 3: Relish**

Avery was amiable enough, in his own way, but you might as well have tried to get sympathy from a stone. Death did not stop business, death _was_ business, and there was business still to be done that night.

He gave Rodolphus one of his vague smiles, the kind where you knew his mind was somewhere else, and reached forward to grasp Rodolphus' wrist. Rodolphus found himself apparated into a misty field, mud splashing up his cloak with a squelch. Avery set off in the direction of the nearby road, and Rodolphus presumed, as one often had to do with Avery, that he was to follow.

'There'll be a lot of walking tonight,' Avery said without ceremony over his shoulder, as the squelched their way across the field. 'So it's good you're wearing sensible boots. That's probably why He chose you, among other things.' He grinned suddenly. 'Can you imagine Lucius out here with his cuban heels?'

They made it over a fence and Rodolphus stepped onto the road gratefully. 'Why else did he choose me?' he asked as they walked along together. He knew already the main reason – to take his mind off Bella and reinforce his obedience, but there would be more in it than that. 'What are we actually doing tonight?'

Avery glanced over at Rodolphus. 'Well, we'll need your muscles, as I'm rather lacking in that department,' he began. 'And possibly we'll be grateful that you can duel – although hopefully it won't come to that. But to be honest, I think mostly because you follow instructions. It's rather a delicate matter, you see, and if my assisstant tried to do things their own way, things could get pretty hairy.'

'What is your way?' He was curious now.

Avery sighed. 'We're going to kill some muggles. Specifically, relatives of muggle-borns.'

'Again?' Rodolphus was bored by the prospect. 'And didn't the Ministry erect spells around their houses after last time?'

Avery nodded. 'To detect magic, yes. Hence my way. And hence we apparate into muddy fields and walk. We don't want to call a troupe of aurors down on our heads, now, do we?'

Rodolphus was beginning to understand. Avery had a reputation for odd hobbies – collecting muggle weaponry and instruments of torture for one. This knowledge, plus a general awareness of muggle affairs that most of the Deatheaters lacked, would be useful tonight. They could apparate, walk, break-in – however that was done in the muggle world – and kill, by muggle means, before stealing out, walking back, and apparating again. Simple, but efective. 'So this way, nobody knows what we've done until we've finished the job and out of the way.'

'Exactly,' Avery replied with satisfaction. 'With a couple of complications. If anybody is awake and spots us, we'll have to silence them as quickly as possible – by muggle means – as muggles _do_ scream and the noise attracts others. Also, sometimes they have an alarm system of their own, using electricity, which is – but never mind that now, suffice to say it detects movement and emits a loud noise. Quite clever, really, but annoying for us. Most of them will have a box on the side of the house, so we can just avoid those houses, but some might not. The noise will likely be relatively quiet for a minute or so, which will give us time to run far enough to get a headstart and disapparate without being traced. But we could be in for an energetic night.'

They were in the village proper now, and Rodolphus wondered which of the quaint cottages they would visit. It was eerily quiet, not even a gate swinging in the breeze or a dog barking. They walked in silence for a few minutes, Avery scanning each house for its number, slowly and methodically. Eventually, he turned off down a driveway. As they approached, he seemed pleased.

'Detached,' he smiled, leading the way around the back of the house.Once there, he picked out a large window, grunted with satisfaction and took his bag from his shoulder, laying it on the ground. He rummaged around for some time before withdrawing the strangest-looking instruemnt Rodolphus could remember seeing for a long time. Avery saw his curious look and smiled. 'Only the best for our Lord's elite,' he said smugly. Then he turned to the window, his back blotting Rodolphus' view. When he next turned, still smiling, to Rodolphus, there was a small circular hole in the window.

Rodolphus stared openly. 'How – without magic?'

Avery's grin widened. 'Ingenious, these muggles. Diamonds, you know, are the only thing sharp enough to cut glass. This little device cost more than my life is worth – quite a lot more– and probably did cost some poor sucker just that.'

So saying, he reached his hand through the hole and flipped the catch on the window, opening it out towards them. Creeping in stealthily, they paused to listen for an alarm. Nothing.

'Too trusting, these muggles,' Avery murmured into Rodolphus' ear. 'They are more cautious in the cities.' He rummaged in his bag again and drew out two sharp knives that gleamed as he took them from their sheaths. 'It is a common misconception that the best way to kill a muggle quietly in is to slit its throat,' he continued matter-of-factly. 'Actually, they gurgle a bit when you do that, so we'll have to cover their mouths to minimise noise. Now, I'm hoping to get a bit of variety in tonight, as it's a rare opportunity and I have some interesting implements in this bag, but I thought it best to start simple. Just slice across the throat. Later I'll show you some other methods.'

He handed one of the knives to Rodolphus, who received it reverentially with an unmistakeable expression of unmitigated awe. He felt the disempowerment of not beign able to use magic ebb away, replaced by a strength and power more coarse, more brutal and more real somehow than came with a wand. He shifted the weight of the weapon in his hand and was reminded forcibly of the fencing lessons his father had made him take as a young boy. Before he could even do basic spells his father had wanted him to learn how to fight; to attack, to deflect, to move with speed and agility, to defeat an opponent, and he had learnt it all and loved it all. Not quite so sporting to slit someone's throat as they slept, but the knife had an elegance of its own that would compensate for that. He looked up to see Avery staring at him with interest.

_He's glad to have me with him_, Rodolphus realised. _If he didn't know before, he knows now what I am. One who takes pleasure in killing, like him._ He felt a surge of adrenaline course through him as he followed Avery into the rest of the house.

The pair crept up the stairs in darkness and Rodolphus listened intently for any noise that could give them away. None was made, and he continued to follow Avery as the other man opened a bedroom door and entered the room. Their eyes had become adjusted to the darkness by now and Rodolphuscould just make out two sleeping figures on a bed. Avery tiptoed round to the other side and knelt. Rodolphus imitated his posture, his knife poised above the man's neck and looked across at his companion. Avery nodded and the two cut in unison. There was some struggle, and a lot of blood, but not too much noise. Rodolphus heard a low chuckle escape his own throat, but Avery motioned for silence and crept back out of the room. In a minute he was back.

'A boy,' he said by way of explanation, the normal volume of his voice sounding strange after the stifled activity. 'Always best to do the mothers first and then go looking for children. The slightest cry from their child will usually wake a mother but children – well,' he grinned. 'They sleep like babes.'

He gave one last appraising look around the room. 'It's a shame we can't send up the Dark Mark,' he said regretfully.

Rodolphus plunged his hand into the blood that still flowed from the man's wound and smiled. 'You never were in Art club at Hogwarts, were you Avery?' as he began to smear the wall with blood.

Avery smiled indulgently. 'Well, don't be too long about it. We've got a lot more places to do.'

'Don't worry,' Rodolphus replied, putting the last touches on a rudimentary skull and serpent motif. 'Besides, I'll get quicker and better with practice. I always do.'

* * *

A/N Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find reliable information on the internet on how to kill people quietly? There's all these forums with people saying 'no, no, if you did it that way they'd scream,' and 'no they wouldn't, you could cut right through their windpipe.' Why can't someone just state the truth once and for all? Oh yeah, then some nutter might actually go and do it... In any case, if you know better, I apologise for my amateurish knowledge of murder :-)  



	4. Return

A/N Aaaand we finally get to crunch time.**  
**

**Chapter 4: Return**

It had been a long night indeed. And now there was the walk home; it was considered unsafe for him to apparate straight into his hideout in case aurors lay in wait. He apparated into a nearby field and heard mud splatter up his legs for the umpteenth time that night, feeling yet more water seep into his shoes. He was wet, tired, and cold. His muscles ached from overuse: arms from the tiring business of murder, legs from running and walking. It was no wonder so few muggles killed each other, he thought, considering the effort involved. Much of his body was covered with dried-on blood and he had cuts, scratches and bruises of his own from one particularly desperate flight in which they ended up rolling down a hill and hiding in bushes. He felt a wave of revulsion as he remembered their filthy blood mingling with his own through those cuts. He would need a hot shower when he got back, and some clean clothes. Then to heal those cuts and bruises, have something to eat and climb into a warm bed. And then…

Bella's absence had been knawing at him all night like hunger, but he had stored up his grief and concentrated on the task in hand. Training in occlumency gave him a mental discipline that he had earlier lacked and Azkaban had done nothing if not furnished him with patience. Still he had not found the usual pleasure in his work – something of it was hollow. Now he missed her so hard it ached more than his weary muscles. Jumbled up with longing for the encouragement in her smile, the wicked glint of her eyes, the solace of her arms, was a desire more carnal and desperate, fuelled with testosterone from the night's events. He was used to finding release with her, but now he was to return alone to an empty house, satisfy himself, and sleep if he could. He was tired, yes, very tired. But he knew that when he lay down, when the day was over, the job done, nothing would be there to distract him. He would watch her die in his mind's eye, over and over again, and he would miss her helplessly.

He was trudging his way over to the derelict cottage he and Bella had been using as a hideout, when he was stopped in his tracks by an unexpected sight. There was a light on in the house! But nobody knew the house was there – for fear of their safety they had not even told their friends and colleagues. It was hardly likely that if an auror discovered their hideout, he would turn the light on whilst waiting. Tramps, then? But it looked like a magic light – there was no electricity and it was too bright to be candle, torch or fire. Rodolphus approached the house cautiously, nerves highly strung and senses alert. Every shadow was scrutinised, every noise made him pause. Whoever was inside was making no effort to keep silent – he could hear footsteps pacing within as he drew nearer. Eventually he could put it off no longer, and slowly opened the door, wand raised and a hex on his lips. The light was bright to him compared to the darkness of outside, but he was not so blinded that he could not see her. Friends they had not told, but there are closer bonds than friendship.

'Narcissa.' She turned in her pacing.

'You took your time,' was her welcome. 'Another mission, was it?'

He nodded, and she walked a couple of steps towards him. He noticed her face was streaked with tears but wisely kept quiet.

'It is true, what Severus told me,' she stated rather than asked. Rodolphus nodded wearily.

'Then loyalty is no longer enough for the Dark Lord,' she said monotonously. He saw desperation in her face and knew well her fears. She had already lost so much, but there was always plenty more to lose. He waited to see if she would say more of her fears or feelings, but she only swallowed and asked, 'Where is the body?'

Rodolphus sighed. 'I was not allowed to keep it. He made me send it away.'

'Why did you not send it to me?' her voice was not raised, but she sounded angry.

'Don't be a fool, Narcissa!' he snapped back. 'You think he would let _you_ keep it either?'

She glared at him and mumbled something that sounded like 'I'd like to see him stop me,' but he chose not to hear it. She continued out loud. 'It's only right that family should have it, Rodolphus. I'm her blood, it's mine by _right_. You of all people know the bonds of kin.'

She was being unreasonably stubborn now, he thought, and he was tired. This had to rank as one of the longest and worst days of his life, and he was in mood for her petulance. 'Family does have it,' he replied, and immediately regretted it.

She looked puzzled. 'Your family? But why?'

It was out now, and he would have to explain.

'Not my family, yours. Andromeda has it.'

Her face went instantly white and she mouthed the 'A-' but her mouth closed and she did not repeat the name.

He continued: 'I sent it to St. Mungo's because I knew it would satisfy the Dark Lord. Her death will be all over the Prophet, as he would wish. Andromeda will identify the body, _she_ will take it and give Bella a decent funeral.'

Narcissa got her voice back. 'She - is - not - family!' she spat vehemently. 'She has besmirched the name of Black. She is of dirty blood now, with her filthy husband.'

Rodolphus shook his head. 'She is still pure-blood. She is still Black blood. Pity her children, for they will be unclean. But she is still family, Narcissa, however much you do not want her to be.'

'It is for me to decide who is family, and it is for me to decide where Bellatrix's body should rest.'

'As her husband it is my right. The Dark Lord recognised this.'

'Still loyal to your wife's murderer?' she snapped. 'Then how can you claim to act in her interests?'

'You do not know that she would not still be loyal, through death as through Azkaban. I do not know either. But yes, I am still loyal.'

'You don't know where your loyalties lie,' she retorted derisively.

'She was dearer to me than life itself, sweeter than any company, but she has not the claim on me as those who gave me life, whose blood runs through my veins.'

'Oh, think for yourself for once,' Narcissa said contemptuously. 'He has destroyed your youth, your love, your future, your happiness. What is in it for you now? Why do you stay? If we only join together-'

'_Silencio!_' The hex came as a shock to Narcissa who found that no sound now escaped her mouth. She pressed her lips together and flushed red with anger.

'Forgive me,' he apologised. 'I did not wish to compromise your dignities, but you must understand that with my loyalties as they are, if you finished that sentence it could have been much worse for you.' There was an edge to his voice, but it softened as he continued. 'You have to watch your own back, Narcissa. You can't trust me.' With an arm gesture and a muttering, he reversed the spell. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. When she opened her eyes the usual light of calculated coldness had returned.

'Very well,' she said. 'If that is your choice. But I cannot say I am not disappointed, low as my expectations were. You are a fool, Rodolphus, a misguided fool: too sensitive for this life of cruelty you have chosen, too stubborn to escape it. I will leave you to your rest, then.' She took her wand out to apparate and in the process turned out some papers from her muff. 'Letters for you again,' she said, handing them to him. 'I'm sick of being your dratted postman. Owls all over the place. They watch my house, you know, the ministry. They watch me. If they start opening my owls and finding envelopes for you, I'll be in for it.' She moaned like this every time she saw him, but she kept bringing them.

'I can't stop people sending them to you,' he explained patiently. 'I never asked them to.'

She shrugged her shoulders, angry but resigned, and apparated.

He collapsed into a nearby chair and closed his eyes. _Must wash off the blood_ he thought to himself. _I can't fall asleep yet_. With great effort he sat up and glanced at the letters Narcissa had left. One was undoubtedly a duplicate bill for some clothes he had purchased shortly before his prison sentence. 'I don't have any money, you stupid old fool,' he muttered. 'My inheritance has been reposessed.' The other caught his eye, because it used only his forename and was written in shaky block capitals. Rodolphus wondered why anyone would do that. He reached over and opened the envelope. Inside were just a few lines:

_Dear Rodolphus_

_Thank you for sending my sister. Whatever else has passed, I am grateful that you remembered me. In turn then, I thought you deserved to know: when we performed the autopsy, we discovered that Bella was pregnant._

_Andromeda_


End file.
